


IV - Do Not Try To Fix A Moody Derek Hale.

by SpaghettiTacos



Series: Law of Stiles [4]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: mentions of the betas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-09
Updated: 2013-03-09
Packaged: 2017-12-04 17:54:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 709
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/713429
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpaghettiTacos/pseuds/SpaghettiTacos





	IV - Do Not Try To Fix A Moody Derek Hale.

He just didn't get it. Why would you want to be in a place that is home to the single worst memory of your _existence_? Further more why would you want to endanger others by letting it worsen even more with time?  
  
These are the things running rampant in Stiles mind as he lies on the back porch, staring at the scorched walls of the Hale house. He had originally been looking for pictures in the clouds but his eyes had drifted to the charcoal walls obscuring his right peripheral. They were still kind of sturdy, that is to say they held up the roof. What was left of it anyway. Stiles knew, from a barbeque way back when, that the house had actually been a creamy shade of white with blue shutters on the windows. Now everything was covered in varying shades of gray and black.  
  
"Stiles."  
  
The teen jumped, sitting up quickly. He turned to his left to see a red-eyed Alpha wolf standing in the doorway, looking thoroughly unimpressed.  
  
"Good morning, Sourwolf!" Stiles greeted with a forced grin, though there was no way the wolf would mistake the way his heart jumped in surprise.  
  
"Go away, Stiles." Derek replied turning back into the darkness of his house.  
  
"Hey!" Stiles called, grabbing the container he'd brought and getting up to follow, "Is that how you treat people who bring you things?"  
  
Derek paused, turning around slowly. He glanced warily at the teen and then at the item in his hands.  
  
"What is it." The older male asked without inflection.  
  
"That is not a question, Sour Wolf." Stiles pointed out.  
  
"Go away, Stiles." Derek repeated, turning back again.  
  
"Wait! I brought you actual food!" Stiles said, walking up to the Hale Alpha.  
  
"Actual food." Derek said. Once again making it a statement rather than a question.  
  
"Yes, because you people eat too much junk. I brought it to the station but the cubs said you were here so I snagged some before they ate it all." Stiles explained, holding the container out.  
  
Derek's green eyes flickered to it momentarily before returning to Stiles' honey brown ones. It was then the human realized that Derek's eyes were red, but not _Alpha_ red. He took a half step forward, head tilting as his face filled with concern.  
  
"Hey, are you okay?" He asked in a soft tone.  
  
"I'm fine." Derek snapped. He grabbed the container, "Thanks."  
  
"No seriously..." Stiles said, voice laced with worry and going so far as to lay a hand on Derek's leather-clad arm. "Is it the house? Cause it's kinda musty."  
  
Derek looked pointedly at the boys hand. Pointedly meaning daggers, causing Stiles to retract it as he was rather attached to his hand. Had it since birth. They were practically BFF's.  
  
"Really? It can't be healthy this place is kind of a death tra..." He was cut off as the air flew out of his lungs due to his back connecting with the wall behind him.  
  
"Ow." He mumbled slowly, head making a low thud as it connected with the drywall.  
  
"Get. Out." Derek growled, eyes now burning crimson.  
  
"Yeesh!" Stiles replied with venom, "Teach me to care."  
  
Derek blinked in shock. The werewolf dropped his hands and staggered back a couple of steps.  
  
"Leave."  
  
"Fine." Stiles huffed, straightening his hoodie and retrieving his keys from the floor. "Eat that." He nodded at the container, still sealed after it's unceremonious tumble to the floor.  
  
Derek nodded once causing Stiles to give him another cheeky grin.  
  
"Go." Derek stated.  
  
"Keep your shirt on I'm going!" Stiles said to Derek's retreating figure. "I want the container back when your done!"  
  
Stiles hopped into his jeep and veered left down the dirt drive and onto the road. He felt the need for greasy food all of a sudden and needed to have it bought, brought home, and consumed before his dad got back and decided he was allowed some.  
  
Later that evening Stiles went up to bed to find the container, washed, on his bed with a note with a deceptively elegant script: _**Thanks.**_  
  
The teen grinned and stuck the paper into his journal before replacing it on the shelf next to his bed.  
  
"You're welcome, Sour Wolf."


End file.
